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On the Streets of Cordoba
In Cordoba, throngs of sight-seers drifted around the Mezquita and in the narrow streets nearby. They were Spanish, English, American, Japanese, and French. We enjoyed the little shops and stopped in a restaurant that advertised paella.
Our waiter didn't speak much English. After the first course, when he took my plate, he paused, not knowing how to tell me what to do.
"I think he wants you to keep your fork," Craig suggested. I took it off the plate.
The waiter said, "What is in English?"
I said, "Fork. El tenedor?"
"Si! Tenedor. Fork?"
"Si! Fork." And we all laughed.
I was thinking about the hillbilly in The Foreigner who tries to teach the Frenchman English.
"FAH-WERK," he shouts encouragingly, waving a fork in the Frenchman's face. "FAH. WERK. FAH-WERK."
By now, the Mezquita and cathedral had reopened to the public after services.
At right, through the main gate, you can see the Patio de las Naranjas and beyond it, the entrance to the mosque, and behind that, the tall nave of the cathedral in the middle of the mosque.
NOVEMBER 2004: SPAIN
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